Once Upon A Memory
by Sela McGrane
Summary: When Hermione made a choice at the end of her forth year, she foresaw a number of consequences to her actions. She foresaw losing her friendships with Harry and Ron, and she foresaw all of the danger. She didn't foresee falling in love with a woman who resented her for her decisions, and she most certainly didn't anticipate that love would turn out to be more powerful than memory.
1. Chapter 1

**This is part one of four. This story is complete as of now, though given that the "one shot" ended up turning into a story nearly twenty thousand words in length, I'm breaking it up in chapters. I'll likely post them a few days apart. Plus side, now that this little thorn in my side is done, I should be able to get back to focusing on Lost Founder and Bucket List, among other WIPs.**

**Like Bucket List, this story features a Slytherin Hermione, though not quite the way you'd assume. Far more complicated, and I adored writing this one. Hope you all enjoy! **

* * *

Two years after the fact, Hermione still wondered if her idea had been a good one. Yes, the children of Death Eaters were likely to be more inclined to side with the Light if they had a fellow Slytherin leading the way, but no matter how much studying she'd done, she still found it difficult to meet them on their level. End of the day, she was still muggleborn, even if nobody but she and _her father_ knew that.

The idea had struck Hermione the night Voldemort had risen again, and Cedric had died. She'd read all about Obliviation, and knew it could be done on a large scale, and so she'd presented the idea to Dumbledore. The idea was that if the greater Wizarding world could be led to believe that she was the daughter of Severus Snape, and that she was placed in Slytherin House, it would not only allow her to be a voice to the sons and daughters of Death Eaters who were still on the fence so far as choosing a side, but it would also allow Severus a partner in his role as spy, who nobody would question. Further, taking her out of Harry's life would mean one less person Voldemort would try to use against the Chosen One.

Dumbledore had been easy to convince, and to her surprise, so had Severus. In fact, while the three of them were the only ones who knew who she really was - courtesy of mass Obliviation - she often times found herself forgetting the farce and just relishing in the pleasure of having a wizarding parent. Merlin knew she loved her Mum and Dad, but they were muggles. They couldn't understand her, and never would, and so along with the wizarding world, Hermione had agreed with Dumbledore that they too would need to forget her. One letter mailed to _Hermione Granger_ would tear a hole in their subterfuge and put her and Severus in dire peril.

This was how she'd come to be in her seventh year at Hogwarts, sitting by the fireplace with her friend, Draco Malfoy, who was enjoying the attention of some younger students, telling them the story about how his father had ordered him to obey Voldemort - to kill Dumbledore - and how he'd spat in his sire's face. This was also why Draco stayed at Order Headquarters over the holidays. With Voldemort residing in Malfoy Manor, and Lucius clearly supporting him, it was the last place Draco could be safe.

Hermione let out a sigh as she thought about punching Draco in the face not too many years ago, after he'd called her a mudblood, and how so much had changed since then. For him, that had never happened. He remembered that day as the day he'd gotten into a fight with Harry and Ron, and Hermione had stepped to his defense. He remembered it as the day they'd become friends. Before then, in Draco's memory, nobody had ever stood up for him that hadn't been paid to do so. He'd stopped hanging out with Crabbe and Goyle after that. Neither of those two had returned to Hogwarts this year. While the Hogwarts rumor mill claimed they'd both been expelled for getting too many bad marks, she knew the truth. Gregory Goyle had been branded a Death Eater and chosen not to return in favor of serving his _Dark Lord_, and Vincent Crabbe had been killed over the summer while attempting to rob a muggle liquor store. Magical or not, a shotgun to the chest would do in anyone.

While it was difficult enough to deal with Harry and Ron treating her much the way Harry's father and the other Marauders had treated Severus, it was almost more difficult for Hermione to adjust to a world in which Professor Minerva McGonagall treated her like any other Slytherin. Fair, but strict, and decidedly emotionless. Gone was the tender look of understanding, and gone were the encouragements and freely given smiles of approval. It had taken most of Hermione's sixth year to figure out why the disregard bothered her so much. She'd anticipating losing friends when she'd agreed to do this. She'd not anticipated driving a wedge between herself and the woman she was in love with.

She supposed this just made her father and daughter dynamic with Severus even more realistic. He hadn't gotten the girl either.

"Malfoy, I'm going down to the kitchens for a snack," she announced. "Want anything?"

"Nah, Snape, I'm good," the blond replied, barely sparing her a glance before continuing to tell his tale to the younger students. While the two of them were friends, Draco had to keep up appearances just as much as she did. As far as the school was concerned, they'd been friends for a time, though in recent years they'd grown distant due to conflicting political positions. In private, he was the best friend a girl could hope for, though in public, he remained distant, aloof, and often quite rude to her.

She couldn't criticise him for it, either. He was doing exactly what she'd hoped he, and others like him, would do. He'd stood up for himself, chosen not to follow Voldemort, and was inspiring the next generation of Slytherins to do the same. He was proud, and she was happy for him, and the unfettered joy he'd found in his own freedom of choice made her own decisions, and the losses and hurts along the way, worth it.

Her thoughts were so occupied with grief that she didn't notice she wasn't the only person to have thought to get a late snack until a voice spoke, startling her. "Miss Snape," Minerva said crisply. "It's nearly curfew."

"I'm aware," she replied sadly. She remembered, not long before the Obliviation, being in this exact situation. She'd come down to the kitchen for a snack, and run into Minerva. That time, however, Minerva had been pleased to see her, not even mentioned how late it was, and they'd enjoyed chatting for nearly an hour over tea. "I'll just be getting a small snack and be on my way."

"Good."

The coldness in Minerva's voice cut Hermione deeply. As much as she wished she could, too much was at stake for Hermione to undo the Obliviate that had so altered her relationship with the woman in front of her. The damning part of this is that while Draco spoke up about being allied to the Light, given her role as a fellow spy alongside Severus, she was not as able to show her true colors. As such, Minerva judged her based on her frequent confrontations with Harry and Ron - most of which were actually her _helping them_, though they couldn't and didn't know that. All any of them saw was a girl who was just like her father - cold, calculating, and prone to pick on Gryffindors.

No, she couldn't undo the spell that locked Minerva's memory of a girl she'd once cared for away. Still, grief coiling in her gut, she couldn't stop the words coming out of her mouth. "You know," she said, locking eyes with the older witch, "in another life, you could have loved me."

Minerva looked surprised at the comment - surprised enough not to offer a rebuttal, and with a heavy sigh Hermione picked up her plate of biscuits and left the kitchen. From there, she made her way up to Severus' quarters. While she called him _Father_ in public, and in many ways they had developed that sort of relationship, there was a level of equality between them that almost allowed for friendship. They were the two people in the wizarding world with the greatest secrets to hide, and so the trust between them was absolute, and in a platonic manner, intimate. He was her confidant, and there was nothing about her that he didn't know. Either she just told him things, or he'd learn via ongoing Occlumency lessons. Merlin knew she was more than proficient by now, but the practice was good for both of them.

"Hermione?" Severus asked, coming out of his bedroom upon hearing the door to his quarters open. "What's wrong?"

"I ran into Minerva in the kitchen," she sulked. "As usual…"

"She treated you like an enemy," he finished for her, sighing. "I'm sorry."

"Tell me it's worth it," Hermione begged, sinking into his waiting embrace. "Just… tell me it's worth it."

He held her tightly, just letting her cry, and as usual his response was unfailingly honest. "I'm not sure anything is worth a broken heart," he replied. "However, the good we are doing, the students who have a chance of a future free of darkness because of you, and the wizarding world that has hope of a better future… it's worth something. The rest, unfortunately, is life."

* * *

It wasn't that unusual to run into Hermione Snape down in the kitchens. Like Minerva, Miss Snape seemed prone to have tea and biscuits prior to calling it a night, and surprisingly, she didn't often opt to just call for a House Elf to get it for her. Minerva doubted that the young Slytherin had any sort of respect for the kind, little creatures. More likely she just enjoyed the solitude of a walk. That much the Head of Gryffindor could understand.

The words still ringing in Minerva's head, however, were beyond comprehension. "_In another life, you could have loved me,_" Hermione had said. Had the words just been words, she might have dismissed them as a certain arrogance; a feeling the young woman had that stated that everyone should think she was worthy of their attention and affection. However, there had been a sadness in Hermione's tone that just baffled Minerva, and alarmed her. Above that, there was something inside of her insisting that the young woman had been _right_, which the logical side of the Professor was entirely dismissive of.

No. Hermione Snape was the daughter of a Death Eater, and regularly was _excused_ from classes by her father to attend meetings. She had the Dark Mark - Minerva had _seen_ that ugly thing - and in no reality would the Scottish witch ever associate willingly with an agent of Voldemort.

So why the wave of affection coursing through her? Why was she currently fighting the impulse to get up and go after Hermione, and for the love of Merlin, why was she referring to Miss Snape in her mind as _Hermione_? The girl was nothing to her. She was a menace, and a fine example of everything she didn't want to see in a student! She was disruptive in class, disrespectful to Professors, and she handed in work that was obviously below what she was capable of. Minerva didn't expect every student to be brilliant, but she did expect them to try their best. Hermione Snape was _obviously_ decently intelligent, and yet she was handing in homework that, on a good day, would give her an _Exceeds Expectations_. More and more these days, Minerva was considering the merits of introducing the same weed out method that Severus did - no student got into his NEWT level classes without having an _Outstanding_ on their Potions OWL.

Shaking her head, Minerva finished up her cup of tea and made for her quarters, intent on calling it a night. Hours later, as she lay sleeping, she dreamt about a young woman with curly brown hair, who was excitedly debating the finer points of Transfiguration with her. Also of note, the girl that even Minerva's subconscious was pretending she didn't recognize was wearing a Gryffindor tie.

The following morning, Minerva saw Severus at a staff meeting, and not for the first time looked at the man and wondered what sort of woman might have mothered his only child, and where she was now. Severus had never said, and the school records listed Hermione's mother as _unspecified_. Given that Severus did live, when not here at Hogwarts, in a muggle area, it was likely that the girl's mother was muggle, but to save his daughter from ridicule upon her sorting to Slytherin House, he'd simply declined to say one way or another.

As the meeting concluded, she went up to the Potions Master. "I had an interesting conversation with your daughter last evening," she remarked.

He growled at her. "Leave her alone, Minerva."

"I didn't seek her out," she replied, surprised by his roughly issued demand. "And I can hardly ignore her when she continues to be a plague on my Transfiguration class."

"Then avoid her," he suggested. "And I'll see if I can convince her to drop your class."

"Why?" Minerva asked, beginning to feel like not only was she missing something, but also that the something was rather important. "She's got the intellect to excel - you can tell by how she does in Potions - but in every other class, she hands in mediocre work. Why wouldn't you encourage her to work harder, rather than allow her to drop a class?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What did Hermione say to you?"

"That in another life, I might have loved her," she shared, desperately seeking some insight, even if it did mean talking to one of her least favorite coworkers. "What did that mean?"

Severus frowned. "Why do you care?"

"I don't know."

"Then I'd suggest you figure out the answer to the latter, and you may already know what she meant," he said after a pause. "And if not, then you're an idiot."

With that said, he stormed out of the room, violently slamming the door behind him. Minerva opted to avoid him for the rest of the day. Obviously, he was a bit touchy when it came to his daughter, and she supposed that was to be expected. The man loved very seldom, but when he did, he loved with his entire being. No matter how irritating she found both of the Snapes, she supposed she considered Hermione to be lucky, to have such a protective father. Granted, she still had no idea what she was supposedly guilty of, to earn his wrath.

* * *

"Meeting tonight, Hermione," Severus said, catching her after class two days later. "Meet me in the Entry Hall at six."

"Alright," she nodded.

Granted, she already knew about the meeting. Same as his, her Dark Mark had burned just after sunrise this morning, and like him, she knew that sunrise summons meant there was a meeting at six in the evening, just as noontime summons meant the upcoming Saturday at three in the afternoon, and a summons anytime after the dinner hour meant there was a meeting the following dawn. Otherwise, word was passed through the usual means; Owl or on the word of a known contact. The Order often communicated via Patronus, though the Death Eaters never did. Hermione supposed it was because a group of people so surrounded by darkness would be hard pressed to find a happy enough memory to conjure one.

Severus merely told her for show, in front of other students, to help maintain her cover as a young Death Eater among those of the students who still reported to their parents within Voldemort's ranks. Draco, as per his role in things, glared at her to further support her claim to darkness, given his clear support of the light. Her father's announcement was for Draco's benefit as well. He was not marked, but he was planning to become a Mediwizard and given that he _did_ know the truth of her loyalty, he habitually joined Dumbledore in the Head's office about an hour after a scheduled meeting, where the two of them would wait for Severus and Hermione to return, tending their wounds as necessary. Dumbledore didn't even trust Madam Pomfrey with the identities of his spies.

After leaving Potions, Hermione made her way toward Transfiguration class, which she would _not_ be dropping no matter what the hell her father said. What did he know, anyway? Alright, so maybe it was a special kind of hell to see Minerva in class, and deal with the brutish way she was treated, but even if she was handing in mediocre homework, she was actually learning a good deal. Upon rounding the last corner before coming to the Transfiguration Corridor, Hermione saw her fellow Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, cornering Harry. She sighed, and set her face to the cold mask she wore around her former friend, and approached.

Unlike Draco, Pansy was not interested in changing sides, thinking for herself, or anything of the sort. The girl reminded Hermione a good deal of Bellatrix, and she wondered if the mad witch she saw at meetings had once been like this - a simple bully.

"What have we here?" Hermione asked. "Parkinson?"

"Scared little kitty," Pansy replied, cackling. "Mama cat is right down the hall, and doesn't even notice her precious little Potter is about to get eaten by a couple of big, bad snakes."

Hermione rolled her eyes, mentally going over Pansy's psychological profile, and trying to decide how best to avoid Harry getting cursed or beaten to a pulp. "Bit scrawny for a meal, isn't he?" she asked.

Pansy shrugged, and Harry glared at her, defiance in his eyes even though his wand was held by Hermione's dorm-mate, leaving him defenseless. "The Dark Lord wants him dead. It hardly matters how little he is."

"You can't hurt me!" Harry challenged, in typical Gryffindor form.

"She can, I assure you, Potter," Hermione replied. "Though seriously Parkinson, it's hardly any fun if you've got his wand already."

By showing Harry to be an easy mark with his lack of wand, she'd appealed to Pansy's insanely large ego, subtly insinuating that it would make her seem a lesser witch to do Harry in when he clearly couldn't put up a fight she could later brag about.

Pansy grumbled, then tossed Harry's wand on the ground at his feet. "True. Another time, Potter. Watch your back."

Hermione resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief as Pansy sauntered toward class, and as much as she wanted to offer Harry a reassuring smile, she forced herself to look him over with an expression that showed boredom, before turning to follow her fellow Slytherin.

"You won't be able to hide behind your father forever, Snape!" Harry called from behind her.

Bracing herself for what she knew would be a hurtful comment to him, but knowing she had to put on a show, Hermione glanced back and offered a smug look. "At least I have a father."

She turned away quickly, not wanting to see the pain in his eyes. Of course, leaving Harry meant going to class, which meant being in a room with Minerva for the next hour. Damn.

* * *

Hermione was limping, Minerva noticed at breakfast the next morning. She couldn't see any evidence of a wound, but the Head of Gryffindor had heard from Lavender Brown that Severus had told his daughter they were expected for _a meeting_, yesterday in Potions. Minerva knew what that meant, and so supposed that Miss Snape was suffering the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse, much like she supposed Severus was. It was par for the course with Death Eater meetings, so she'd been told, though Severus had been dealing with it longer than his daughter, and was likely used to masking the pain.

It was beyond her understanding how a man who so clearly loved his child could put her in a situation to be tortured like that. It made absolutely no sense to Minerva. For that matter, Minerva didn't understand how Severus could buy into the malarkey that Voldemort spewed. He was an intelligent man, who knew how to think for himself, and other than his affiliation with his Dark Bloody Lord, he showed no sign that he was the sort of man who got off on power. This, of course, was a common character trait among other known Death Eaters.

Another thing Minerva didn't understand was how Albus could be so fooled by Severus. No matter what anyone in the Order told him, the Headmaster insisted that while yes, Severus bore the Dark Mark, he was reformed and trustworthy. Further, according to Albus, Miss Snape had _not_ followed in her father's footsteps and been branded by Voldemort. Never mind that Minerva had personally _seen_ the mark on the young woman's arm!

"I'll be fine."

Minerva, startled, looked up to realize that she'd been so lost in thought, staring at Miss Snape, that the young woman in question had approached unnoticed. "Who said I cared?" she replied haughtily.

Hermione sighed. "You looked concerned. In any case, Father told me that you've been unsatisfied with my classwork of late, and I wanted to assure you that I will try to do better. I don't want to drop Transfiguration. I quite enjoy it, actually."

"I'm pleased to hear that," the Professor replied insincerely, glaring. While one part of her did want to see Miss Snape apply herself properly, the seed of thought Severus had planted in her mind that suggested a world in which she didn't have to teach this particular student anymore had its own sort of appeal.

That evening, after Minerva had taken her nightly tea and laid down for bed, she found herself dreaming about the same girl she'd been dreaming about since the night she'd run into Miss Snape in the kitchen. This time, the conversation they were having was more vivid than any of the previous dreams she'd had.

"_Honestly, Professor," the girl said, "I just can't decide between mastery subjects. I know I'm only in my fourth year, but I feel like I should know before my OWLs what I'm going to do for my career, so that I can put in the extra time to get the best possible grades in the subjects required."_

"_Most students aren't this forward thinking," she heard herself reply. "Though I confess, I was much the same as you are, my dear. That's likely why I broke records when I took my Transfiguration NEWT. How about this for an idea - weekly teas with me for the rest of term, during which we can talk about the different fields you're interested in, and I can try to help you narrow it down."_

"_That would be wonderful, Professor!"_

_Dream Minerva put her glasses on the coffee table, looking thoughtful. "You know, if you like, you can call me _Minerva _when it's just us. Obviously, you're my student and there are professional boundaries to consider, but I can't help but hope that even after you graduate, we might remain in contact, and become friends."_

_The girl's smile couldn't have gotten any brighter. "I'd like that...Minerva."_

"_I'm pleased to hear that," she heard herself say to the young Gryffindor in front of her, and she truly meant it. Hermione Granger meant something to her - more than any other student she'd ever met - though she had yet to work out what that implied for the future of their relationship._

Minerva woke with a start, panting. "Granger?" she asked her dark room. She lay there for hours, trying to figure out where she'd heard that name before, but couldn't come up with an answer. She also couldn't figure out how she could feel so fond of this… alternate reality Hermione, when the real Hermione drove her mad. What did any of it mean?

Then she remembered Miss Snape's comment. _In another life, you could have loved me_. "Ah," she reasoned out loud. "This is just my subconscious playing with the idea of if, in another life, Miss Snape had been sorted to Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. That has to be it!"

While she was able to fall back asleep after that conclusion was formed, somewhere in the back of her mind remained a shadow of doubt, still trying to figure out where she'd ever heard the name _Granger_.

* * *

**This story may have cliffhangers. PLEASE REVIEW! **


	2. Chapter 2

**And here's part two! I hope you are all enjoying this! **

* * *

Minerva had been watching her for the better part of a week, and it was starting to grate on Hermione's nerves. Any opportunity to just stare at her was taken unabashedly, with seemingly no concern over how barking mad she looked. By Friday afternoon, at the conclusion of Transfiguration, Hermione had officially had enough, so she waited for the room to clear of other students before approaching her Professor.

"Would you like to tell me _why_ you've been stalking my person this last week?" she asked without ceremony.

"I've been doing no such thing!" the other woman claimed, though by her blush Hermione could tell that even she didn't believe her statement.

"You have," she said adamantly, "and I want to know why."

"I do not answer to _you_, Miss Snape," Minerva said crisply. "However, let's just say that you were noticed leaving the castle with your father, and noticed returning in a fair amount of pain. One might suspect it had something to do with the brand on your arm."

Hermione looked away. She had suspected for some time that Minerva knew she'd taken the Dark Mark, though the older witch had never before confronted her about it. It didn't matter much in the grand scheme, because Dumbledore already knew and it wasn't a risk to her position, but it did go a long way to explain why Minerva treated her so poorly. She shuddered to think what the woman she loved would think about some of the other things she'd had to do, in order to maintain her cover.

The only reason she could still sleep at night was because she knew that the people she'd killed would have suffered much longer if she hadn't quickly earned a reputation as a stellar interrogator. Not even her father had managed to get into that position. By being the one to work a victim for information, she was able to decide what secrets spilled she could give to Voldemort, and what she could hold back. It also allowed her to warn Dumbledore if secrets spilled resulted in a threat to an Order member. As soon as she had the information, she could put the poor wizard or witch out of their misery. Unlike many of her Death Eater brethren, she did not relish in causing pain, and since she was still in school, any threats she issued toward a victim's children would always be taken seriously. They knew she'd have the opportunity, and there was no greater persuasion tactic than to threaten a victim's child.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione lied. "My father simply fancied taking me to dinner out of the castle."

To Hermione's surprise, Minerva lunged forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her sleeve up before she could react, showing the Dark Mark on her arm plain as day. "Oh really?" she sneered. "Honestly, Miss Snape, I'm not a stupid woman, so how about you stop acting as if I were. And don't even try and tell me that you had no choice. There's always a choice!"

With a heavy sigh, Hermione pulled her arm away and put her sleeve back in place, before looking the Scottish woman in the eye. "I had a choice," she said, tear falling down her cheek despite her efforts to keep her emotions in check. "But I don't expect you to understand why this is the path I went down."

"Explain it to me!" Minerva shouted. "Why in Merlin's name would an intelligent young woman like you _choose_ to follow the likes of You-Know-Who? The cost of such an allegiance is unimaginable! It's too much!"

"For the greater good," she answered quietly. "And I am _painfully_ aware of the cost, Minerva. The cost is standing in front of me, afraid to look me in the eye. Good day."

With that said, Hermione ran out of the room, terrified of what Minerva might have said in response, and concerned that she'd said too much. For two years, the older witch had been content to just treat her with disregard, but something had shifted and she didn't know what. Minerva was asking questions that Hermione couldn't answer, for as surely as the Dark Mark bound her to Voldemort, the Unbreakable Vow she'd made to Dumbledore bound her to silence.

* * *

Hours later, Minerva sat silently in the Staff Room, mulling over her latest conversation with Miss Snape. Everything she knew to be true about Death Eaters was contrary to Hermione's statement about the greater good being served by her choice to join their ranks. The fact that Hermione had addressed her by name was all manner of unsettling on top of that, given her recent dream of the alternate Hermione having been given permission to do that.

Beyond that, Minerva was beginning to ask herself why she even cared so much. Miss Snape was just one among several older students primed and ready to join Voldemort's ranks. In many of those students, she saw the wasted potential. So why did this _one_ student get under her skin, and for Merlin's sake why was the dream version of herself so attached to that alternate Hermione?

"Minerva?" Filius' voice called, pulling her away from her thoughts. "Are you alright?"

She regarded her coworker for a moment, and considered how much he enjoyed a good puzzle. Their long standing friendship promised confidentiality, and true to his Ravenclaw nature, he was often able to see things that others would miss. "I'm trying to sort out a puzzle," she finally replied. "Want to weigh in?"

He smiled, and took a seat beside her. "Go on."

"I recently had a conversation with one of the students that evidence suggests has joined the ranks of You-Know-Who," she began, "during which the student stated that they'd made the choice to join because of the _greater good_. What greater good could be served by joining the likes of him? It's my understanding that the draw to his ranks is in promises of power in exchange for service. That's pure and simple selfishness, and doesn't serve anyone beyond themselves. I just… can't wrap my head around the concept."

He looked thoughtful. "Is this student intelligent?"

"Highly, not that she applies herself often."

"Ah," he said knowingly. "Miss Snape."

Minerva huffed. "I was trying to give you objectivity."

"Personal convictions are just that, Minerva," Filius replied. "Personal. As such, that kind of objectivity doesn't really help us understand. Miss Snape is indeed very intelligent, and while her actions do show her to be the sort with dark leanings, it is her _inactions_ that have most interested me over the years."

"What do you mean?" the Scottish witch asked.

"Have you ever seen her bully a fellow student of her own accord?" he asked.

"Of course, she does it all the time!"

"She certainly does, but she is never the one to make the first move. She'll join in if a fellow student has already chosen a target, but she never bullies independently. Given that everything else we know of Miss Snape shows her to be a highly independent young woman, this is out of character for her. She's not a sheep, Minerva."

The other professor was silent for a moment, trying to think of any instance that would disprove Filius' supposition. She couldn't come up with anything. "Alright, let's say you're right about that. What does that mean?"

"If what you say is true, that she made the choice to join, then we can rule out any reasons that suggest she was coerced into taking the mark," he replied. "This implies that she did it of her own volition, for a greater purpose. Given her obvious intelligence, I would not be surprised if she was perfectly aware of Grindelwald's campaign, and how it stood on the principle of the greater good. She may have actually been referring to it when she made her statement to you."

"Grindelwald used that statement as a means to justify any and every horrible action," Minerva countered. "That hardly gives the girl any points in her favor."

"It does if her association with that phrase is because she's been influenced by Albus," he countered, "who as you have ranted about numerous times, steadfastly turns a blind eye to her wrongdoings. The question then becomes one of _why_."

"He treats Severus much the same way," Minerva agreed, grumbling.

Filius sighed. "It really is quite obvious if you'd put your emotions on the back burner for five minutes."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What's obvious?"

"We know Albus has spies in his service, Minerva," he replied, standing. "Did it ever occur to you that a parent and child duo of spies would be ideal to reach and influence people on the fence of choosing sides?"

The shocked look on her face told him that no, that thought had _not_ occurred to her, though while Filius was nearly unrivaled in regard to his skills of deductive reasoning, she was no slouch at it either. It _did_ make sense.

"If that were true, why wouldn't he have told us?" she tried. "For that matter, since it obviously bothers Miss Snape greatly that I think so poorly of her, why hasn't _she_ told me?"

"Again, Minerva, it's rather obvious."

"Filius…"

"The Unbreakable Vow."

Minerva blinked. "Oh."

* * *

In the weeks leading up to Christmas break, Minerva had been unusually distant and almost considerate to Hermione, which of course did not go unnoticed by Hermione's fellow Slytherins. Pansy was taking a good bit of pleasure in making suggestive comments about how, if McGonagall was being nice to Hermione, it must mean that Hermione had betrayed the Dark Lord. From Hermione's point of view, she'd never been loyal to Voldemort in the first place, which technically meant she had not betrayed him, although she wasn't about to tell this to Pansy. As much as a part of her was relishing in the unusual consideration that Minerva was showing her these days, it was actually undermining her role within Voldemort's ranks. That, sadly, would not do.

"I'm just gonna have to piss her off," Hermione decided.

With a heavy sigh, she made her way to the Headmaster's office, and let herself in with the password - _Charleston Chew _this week - and approached the aged wizard. "Good morning, Headmaster."

"Miss Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.

She smiled a little at that. While Severus had gone fully into character, and only addressed her as _Snape_, Dumbledore would address her by the name she'd been born with when he knew it was safe to do so.

"I'm having a bit of a problem with Minerva," she explained. "I'm concerned that she's found some reason to suspect my true allegiance, as she's being… _nice_ to me."

He frowned. "Well, that doesn't bode well. I know that it pains you to have her treat you so poorly, my dear, but to keep her safe, she must believe the subterfuge of the Obliviation. Have you an idea on how to reassert your claim to darkness in her eyes?"

"I do, but you're not going to like it," she replied. "I was thinking about attacking her. Even before she started to act like she suspected something, she knew you turned a blind eye to my actions, so I don't think she'd be suspicious of you ignoring that I'd engaged a Professor in a duel."

"True," he agreed. "Though I'd rather not see her hurt."

"You know I can't promise that," Hermione replied, "but I can do my best to minimize the damage. I don't want to cause her lasting harm. I just want to send a clear message."

"Very well," he agreed. "Please stay clear of other students when you attack. I don't want innocents harmed in the process. Young people are so prone to heroics, and I wouldn't put it past young Harry to try to step in on his Head of House's behalf."

"I had considered that. I was planning to do the attack during a period he is in class."

He nodded in approval of her plan. "I would say _alert me when it's done_, but word travels quickly in this castle so I imagine I'll hear about it before it's even over. Of course, you're counting on that."

"I am," she replied. "It serves doubly so if Parkinson and the others like her can report to Voldemort that I've attempted to do in the Deputy Head of Hogwarts."

"Alert Severus before you engage her," Dumbledore added. "Minerva may be fair in class but she's anything but in a battle situation. I do not believe she'd kill you, even if you gave her the chance, but she would have no issue with injuring you grievously."

"Charming," Hermione scoffed. "Thank you, Headmaster."

"Good day, Miss Granger."

It was nearly a week before an opportunity was presented. It was just like the older woman to offer herself on a silver platter. Typical Gryffindor - more than enough courage, but lacking in an ability to consider potential consequences. "I know you're hiding something," Minerva called to her on a Wednesday afternoon, catching her heading toward the Library.

Hermione looked around, saw that there were no students around, and after a mental look at her diary, confirmed that Harry was currently in Care of Magical Creatures. With a deep breath, she carefully drew her wand, and then spun on her heel and slung a strong stinging hex toward her Professor.

"What the bloody…" Minerva swore, getting her shield up just in time to block the spell. "What do you think you're doing, Miss Snape!"

"Shutting you up," Hermione said lowly, with a dangerous edge to her voice that immediately put Minerva on guard. "I have had _enough_ of this. You're going to learn to mind your own business, McGonagall!"

At that point, conversation pretty much came to an end, and for the next twenty minutes, Minerva and Hermione dueled furiously, each getting in a little damage here and there. Eventually, both woman realized that the distance between them was granting their respective opponents more time to react, so they began to circle closer.

Minerva was nearly on her, and as she flicked her wand to the left, Hermione moved to put up a shield, not realizing that the older woman hadn't cast a spell, but rather poised her fist to swipe back to the right, colliding with Hermione's jaw with considerable force. In response, Hermione grabbed Minerva's wrist and spun her around, flinging her into a stone wall. Her head slammed back and impacted, and for a moment, Hermione thought Minerva was going to pass out.

Instinct took over, and Hermione moved forward to cradle the other woman's head gently, trying to see if the head wound was serious. "Minerva…" she whispered, concerned. Unfortunately for Hermione, Minerva's vision cleared a moment later, and her instinct upon seeing her opponent right in her face was to grab her hair, and twist her around, so that now Hermione was the one with her head being bounced against the wall. "Ow," she complained, feeling dizzy.

"What is wrong with you, Hermione?" Minerva demanded. "One day you're telling me that in another life, I might have loved you, and now you're attacking me! Dammit woman, you make no sense!"

Hermione would later look back on this moment and be at a loss to explain what happened next; Minerva kissed her. Passionately. Of course, her brain more or less fell out at the contact, and she responded with vigor. Both women seemed to be holding on for dear life as the kiss continued, but as much as Hermione wished things were different, as her head began to clear and she realized what was happening, she knew she had to stop it.

So, she shoved Minerva away, slapped her across the face for good measure, and stormed off without a word, heading to her dorm where she planned to have a good long cry.

* * *

Minerva downed a _Calming Drought_ the minute she got back to her quarters, and followed that with a pain potion, before conjuring an ice pack for her head and sitting down to look at the sizable gash in her thigh from where Hermione had gotten her with a slicing hex. With a sigh, she realized that the wound was severe enough that she'd not be able to tend it on her own, so she limped over to the fireplace and Flooed her friend and resident Mediwitch. "Poppy, can you come over for a minute?"

The other witch didn't question, coming through a minute later, and gasping at the sight of her friend. "Minerva, what happened?"

The Scottish witch winced as Poppy began poking and prodding about her person. "I got into an altercation with a student," she admitted.

"A… a student!" Poppy exclaimed. "Minerva, you have to report this!"

"I rather don't see much of a point," she said with a sigh.

The Mediwitch, who was well aware of the special treatment one particular Slytherin student got from the Headmaster, let out a groan. "Hermione Snape," she hissed.

"Quite," Minerva said sourly. "I'm sure by now Severus is tending to her wounds. Neither of us were holding back."

"In that case, I'd say you're lucky to be alive. The spells that witch knows?" Poppy remarked, aghast. "She might have used an Unforgivable on you!"

"I don't think she meant to kill me, Poppy," Minerva replied. "Just teach a lesson."

"A lesson," the other woman deadpanned. "Of all the nerve…"

"I'm pretty sure I had it coming," she sighed. "I just… I suppose I was seeing something I wanted to see, some good in her. I had all but convinced myself that she was secretly working for the Order - a spy - but after this… no, I don't know why, but that woman is cloaked in anger, and that is exactly the sort of thing You-Know-Who exploits. She's beyond reason, and beyond hope."

_And yet, for some reason, I kissed her_, she thought to herself, still trying to figure out what on earth had possessed her to do such a thing. The wounds Hermione had inflicted on her would heal easily enough, but the memory of that young woman's lips was going to torment her until the end of time. Why had she done that? And sweet Merlin, had Hermione kissed her back?

* * *

"Here," Hermione offered a pain potion to her father. Voldemort really didn't have much of a pattern, these days, as to who was going to get tortured for some supposed failure, and who'd be spared. Luckily, at this evening's meeting, Hermione had been spared, for which she was grateful considering she was still in a good deal of pain from her duel with Minerva two days prior. Severus hadn't been quite that lucky, not that he'd complain.

"Thank you," he replied, taking the vial and downing it at once.

The two of them left his quarters a moment later, as usual going to the Head Tower to report to Albus. While Christmas break didn't actually start until the end of the week, Draco had been moved last night for his own safety, to Order Headquarters, and so he'd not be there tonight.

"Report," Dumbledore ordered succinctly.

"He's keeping Nagini close for the time being," Severus began. "Though Hermione and I have been discussing the merits of attempting to Imperius him in concert to send her somewhere else. When it was just me, I wouldn't have dreamed of trying it on the Dark Lord, but with both of us we may be able to influence him enough to send the damn snake somewhere he perceives as safe, but we can get to."

"Possible," Dumbledore agreed, "though let's hold onto that thought for the time being. We still have the horcrux in Mister Potter's scar to contend with, given that Miss Granger won't allow us to proceed with my original plan…"

"To lead Harry to his death like a pig to slaughter?" Hermione growled. "I bloody well think not. I gave up everything to save him, and I'm not going to let you give up on him like that. He deserves to live a long, happy life. I'm planning to spend the Christmas break in the Library working on that issue. I have several ideas; I just need to research them. One of them is actually a potion…"

Severus perked up at that. "What potion?"

"I'm considering the idea of developing an offshoot of the _edax animae_," she replied. "I figure that if the creation of a Dementor - a creature that eats souls - is a combination of Necromancy, some of the darkest Charms I've ever seen, and that potion, then perhaps the potion that gives the dementor its ability to eat souls could be modified to only take a target soul, or rather fragment of a soul. A dementor never harms the physical shell of a person it attacks, so it stands to reason that Harry would be left unharmed. The kink I still need to work out is how to make the potion target only the fragment of Voldemort's soul, and leave Harry's soul alone."

"What about adding Mullein?" Severus asked. "Or some other ingredient with antibiotic properties?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "That's a direction I hadn't considered. Fae Garlic would be ideal, but that's really hard to find."

"I can start checking around with my contacts," he offered.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "If you two could hold off this intellectual debate…"

"Apologies, Headmaster," Severus said. "I'm not sure there's anything else to report. You've already destroyed the other five horcruxes, and lived to tell the tale…"

"Only because I was there to stop him from putting on a cursed ring…" Hermione muttered under her breath, remembering the day in question, last year.

"...which means that ending the Dark Lord once and for all boils down to two simple things," Severus continued. "We must destroy the remaining two horcruxes, and then the physical body from Voldemort's reanimation. We know what the final two are, but not how to destroy them, and there's no point in discussing battle strategy until we've gotten that far."

"I have the Order working on the battle plan," Dumbledore said dismissively. "Now that Harry is over seventeen, he's taking part in the meetings, as is young Ronald. I must say, Mister Weasley has a decent head for strategy…"

"And a hot temper," Hermione added. "He may be able to plan a battle, Dumbledore, but don't put him on the front lines. He'll let emotion get the better of him, and he'll get killed."

"Agreed," the old man replied with a nod. "If that's all, the two of you could probably stand for some rest."

Severus and Hermione both agreed wholeheartedly to that point and made to leave with curt goodnights before the Headmaster changed his mind about concluding their meeting so quickly.

* * *

"Well that doesn't look good," Minerva muttered to herself, watching as Misters Potter and Weasley were being surrounded by a group of six upper year Slytherins, led by Pansy Parkinson.

"I told you to watch your back, Potter," Miss Parkinson spat.

She was moving to step in when she saw Miss Snape approach, and while one part of her was urging haste in light of the development, another part of her held back. She wanted to see what Hermione would do. As a middle ground to her opposing instincts, Minerva morphed into her Animagus form and slunk forward undetected. She was close enough now that it would be easy to come to her poor cubs' rescue if needed, but remain undetected so at least for the time being, she could stand back and watch the scene unfold.

"Really, Pansy, I'm beginning to think you have nothing better to do," Miss Snape drawled, sounding so very like her father.

"And I'm beginning to think that you have it in your head to get Potter before me!" the other girl accused. "You just watch, Snape, I'm going to be the one in the Dark Lord's favor in the end."

"You are in a public place," Hermione remarked, arms opening to point out the large open space of the grounds before them, with a number of students within eye shot. "And the Dark Lord ordered you to stay in school to _watch_ Potter, not to scare him and his… _pet_."

Ronald growled at that comment, and Minerva didn't blame the boy.

"It's called taking initiative," Parkinson said smugly.

"It's called disobeying orders," Snape countered.

With a huff, Parkinson jerked her head toward her friends, and the group of Slytherins walked away with glares toward the two Gryffindors. Hermione remained a moment, however.

"We didn't need your help, Snape!" Weasley shot out. "This time or any of the others. Why don't you just leave us alone?"

Hermione sighed. "Weasley, to every thing there is a season. A time to live, and a time to die; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to keep silent, and a time to speak. There's a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace. Sooner or later, you'll figure that out."

Both boys looked stunned at her words, and confused. Potter seemed like he knew he knew that quote from _somewhere_, though was unable to place it. Minerva, raised by a muggle Minister, knew immediately what Miss Snape had been referencing. What she'd just said was a shortening of a poem by King Solomon, found in the Muggle Bible.

Why in Merlin's name would a Slytherin witch, raised in darkness and branded with the Dark Mark, think to quote the _Bible_? Minerva was so shocked by this that she didn't even notice that the boys had left until she was brought out of her musings by the sound of Hermione Snape crying under the tree she was hiding in.

* * *

Hermione heard Minerva coming before she saw her. There was a distinctive way the older witch moved, much like a cat, and under her father's guidance she'd become more than adept at noticing patterns like that. Minerva seeking her out was not all that surprising, but the tone she used - gentle but unsure - when she finally announced her presence was unexpected. "What are you doing?"

"Research," Hermione answered, not even looking up. "Can I help you, Professor? As you can see, I really am quite busy at the moment."

Minerva sighed. "We need to talk, Hermione. This… whatever it is between us has gotten out of hand."

Hermione paused in her writing, but still refused to look up. "You kissed me."

"You kissed me back," the older witch countered.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione asked. Despite that yes, she really did need to be working on the research on Horcruxes, Minerva wasn't wrong in her thinking that the dynamic between them needed to be addressed. Her plan to push Minerva away by instigating a duel had failed spectacularly, and so at this point she was willing to try talking it out.

"Kiss you?" Minerva asked. "I honestly don't know, though in retrospect I suppose I'm forced to admit that I'm attracted to you. Why did you kiss me back?"

Hermione laughed bitterly. "The most powerful magic on earth compelled me to."

"I don't understand."

Finally, Hermione turned, giving her full attention to the woman who'd taken a seat next to her. "Love, Minerva. Despite all good sense, _I_ _love you_."

Minerva looked thoughtful. "So what you said, that night in the kitchens…"

"That in another life, you might have loved me?" Hermione finished. "You've already admitted to being attracted to me, but the reality of it is that we're on opposite sides, and each have parts to play in this war, for our own reasons."

"I don't believe you're truly loyal to Voldemort," Minerva interjected.

"I'm not overly concerned about what you believe. So long as the Dark Lord believes I belong to him, then things are as they should be," she replied. "The truth, and the lies, are what stand between us. Neither of us would ever be happy in a relationship in which there are secrets between us, and I cannot tell you so much as whether or not you're close to guessing the truth."

"That's cryptic."

"It's hell," Hermione choked out, feeling a sense of closure that she wished didn't need to happen. This conversation would be the end of something that might have been wonderful, because at the end of the day, even if they both survived the war and Hermione was able to be honest with Minerva about her role in it, it didn't change that Obliviation was permanent, and that no matter what happened, there would always be the lie of the altered memories between them.

The sight of Hermione breaking down caused Minerva to stand, and pull the younger woman into a hug. "I wish I knew what to say," she murmured. "I wish I could say it was going to be alright, but I don't have enough facts to make a judgment call and I won't insult you with baseless platitudes."

"We can't do this," Hermione said weakly, burying her nose into Minerva's neck, trying to memorize her scent. There was every chance she'd never have the opportunity to be this close to the woman she loved again.

"We can have this moment," the older witch said softly, tilting Hermione's chin up. "Just a moment, to be honest with each other about one thing."

Lips met softly, nothing like it had been the last time in the corridor. While the passion before had been fueled by fury and resentment, now the heat built on sorrow and desperation. They both knew that there was something between them - something that might have been everything - but they both equally knew that love wasn't enough.

"I don't want to let you go," Hermione moaned as the other woman slowly stopped the kiss. "How can I go back to what we have to be to each other, now that I know what you taste like? Now that I know you feel it too?"

"Much the same way I will," Minerva admitted with a sigh. "With difficulty."

* * *

**BOOM! PLEASE REVIEW! **


	3. Chapter 3

**ONE MORE AFTER THIS!**

* * *

Minerva had never expected that she'd be the sort to engage in a romantic relationship with a student. It had been more than a small blow to her pride to admit to herself she was attracted to Hermione, much less to Hermione herself, but in the grand scheme of things, it hadn't been hard. Admitting an attraction to a student fell second to the mystery of what the younger witch was hiding, and why she was siding with Voldemort.

The desire to extend that attraction to the idea of pursuing a relationship fell second to the tattoo on Hermione's arm. No matter how she tried to reason things, she could not come up with an explanation. Even _if_, and that was a strong if, Severus was a spy for Albus and the Order, no sane father would ask his child to follow him along the path. If he was truly a Death Eater and had Albus fooled, then he might have gotten his daughter to join him in his service to Voldemort, but that would mean Hermione was in fact willingly serving that monster, and that conflicted with everything else Minerva knew of the woman. The fact was simply that Hermione had the Dark Mark, and was absolutely keeping too many secrets to feasibly take into a romance.

Hermione was right. They couldn't be together.

Minerva's dreams about the younger Gryffindor called Hermione _Granger_ were getting more and more intense. She'd almost expected them to turn erotic in the light of the shared kisses between herself and Hermione Snape, but they didn't. They remained innocent, showing a deep affection blossoming between herself and this other girl.

January was nearly over now, which meant that the fifth and seventh year students were beginning the process of crunching for OWLs and NEWTs, and in turn, increasing her workload greatly. While not a day went by that the Scottish witch didn't think of one Hermione or the other, she hardly had time to dwell on it, much less give it any sort of musing.

* * *

Hermione rested comfortably in Albus' desk chair, disillusioned, so that she could observe the result of her months and months of hard work. She'd finally managed to create a potion which should destroy the part of Voldemort's soul residing in Harry's scar. Now, she was just waiting for Albus to administer it as soon as Minerva, who'd recently been informed of the existence of Horcruxes, arrived with Harry. She laughed quietly to herself, thinking of how Minerva had hexed the Headmaster good and proper for keeping that particular bit of knowledge to himself for as long as he did. "_If it concerns one of my students, it concerns me, Albus!" _she'd ranted. "_You secretive, arrogant, TOERAG!"_

Hermione didn't know what exactly a toerag was, but it had been amusing to watch the Headmaster flinch under Minerva's ire.

Finally, Minerva walked into the office, with Harry beside her. "Alright, Mr. Potter," she said. "We're here because the Headmaster needs to explain to you the nature of your connection with You-Know-Who, and then sever it."

Harry brightened a bit, and gave his attention to Albus. "Sir?"

"I shall spare you the details, dear boy, but the night that Voldemort killed your parents, his soul split and latched itself onto the only living magical being in proximity. You," the elderly wizard stated bluntly. "It's a very dark bit of magic called a _horcrux._ Voldemort made others, on purpose, as a means to immortality, though he has not realized that he made one in you, or he most certainly would have taken greater advantage of the fact."

Hermione watched as Harry processed the information, obviously feeling disgusted and afraid. "Professor McGonagall mentioned a way to sever it… to get rid of it?" he pressed.

The Headmaster nodded. "A potion has been created which, upon consumption by yourself, will treat the soul fragment as an infection, and promptly seek to destroy it. We believe this process will take two to three days, and there may be some pain involved. After we're finished here, Professor McGonagall will escort you to the Hospital Wing so we can keep an eye on things until the potion has run its course."

Harry nodded. "Someone will tell Ron where I am, yeah?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter," Minerva assured him. "After you're settled, I will fetch him and explain the situation, though the both of you must keep this a secret. We cannot allow You-Know-Who to discover we are seeking to destroy his horcruxes. If he knows we know about the one inside you, he'll rightly assume we're hunting the others."

"Of course, Professor," Harry agreed readily.

Albus handed him the vial. "Bottoms up, my boy."

Harry downed the potion in one gulp. "Can I run back to the dorm and grab my night clothes before we go to the Hospital Wing?" he asked, turning to Minerva.

"You go ahead, and I'll meet you in the ward," she agreed. "But hurry. We don't know how quickly this potion will begin to work."

Harry nodded, and like a shot he was off, leaving Minerva standing seemingly alone with Albus, unaware she was being watched by Hermione. "Did Severus make the potion?" Minerva asked.

"He was involved with the brewing process, though the development was done by another," he replied.

"Another Slytherin?" she asked, frowning.

His eyes twinkled. "Now that is the question, isn't it?"

Minerva looked confused. Hermione rolled her eyes. It was a wonder Minerva didn't hex him again.

* * *

"Severus!" Minerva called, spotting her colleague in the staffroom a week later.

"No," he stated.

"I haven't even asked for anything yet," she said dryly.

"You are greeting me in a friendly tone, which implies you want something that I am ill equipped, ill prepared, or just disinclined to give you," he replied.

She huffed. Slytherins. "I wanted to ask about the potion that was developed for Mister Potter. Albus said that you had a hand in brewing it, but not in development."

"And you want to know who developed it," he concluded. "I'm not telling you."

"Come now Severus," she argued. "I just want to see that the person is appropriately thanked."

"All I will say is that Mister Potter has a friend that would move mountains to protect him, and it infuriates me that he doesn't even know it," Severus allowed after a pause. "Someone who understands the greater good to a level even Albus and I find staggering. Now good day, Minerva."

He didn't allow her to question further, rising at once and leaving the staffroom. Anyone with a brain knew better than to follow Severus once he'd made up his mind to leave a conversation. The few times it had been tried had all ended with either injury or embarrassment. Minerva recalled once Pomona had attempted to follow him, in his early years of teaching, and he'd hung her upside down in the hall and cast a silencing spell. She'd been high enough off the ground to easily go unnoticed by passers-by, and she couldn't cry out for help. Pomona hadn't forgiven him for months, and she was a bloody Hufflepuff!

_Damn_, Minerva thought. She hadn't actually thought he'd tell her, but she'd been hoping she could get him to at least admit to a gender. There weren't too many Potions masters out there with the skill to develop something like this, and a gender identity would have halved the already small list of possible options.

* * *

"Hi there," Minerva said softly upon spotting Hermione in a corner of the bookstore in Hogsmeade.

Hermione looked up and frowned. "The last time you and I were in a dark corner surrounded by books, things didn't end well."

"I'm not making a damn move," Minerva scoffed. "I just thought we could… I don't know, talk."

"About what?"

Minerva looked thoughtful. "I still don't believe you're truly loyal to _him_, greatly because I've seen how you watch out for Mister Potter. You may disguise it as blatant bullying, but every single time, you find a way to manipulate the situation so that he doesn't come to any harm."

"I assume you mean to make a point," Hermione replied, not justifying Minerva's observations.

"I suppose I'm thinking that spring is coming, and You-Know-Who tends to attack Potter toward the end of the term," she explained. "And I was wondering what you might be planning to do about it. Two years ago, when Potter ended up going off to the Ministry, Umbridge was mysteriously locked in her own quarters and therefore unable to stop him from leaving. That may have been dumb luck, but there was also the fact that the Order was alerted to the danger he was in, and your father is rather tight lipped in regard to how he learned Harry had even left the castle. I think that you locked Umbridge in her quarters, and you alerted your father to the fact Harry was heading to the Ministry. Last year when the Death Eaters breached the castle via the Room of Requirement, everything turned out fine because they couldn't get out of the Room and into the castle proper."

"That's all speculation," Hermione reasoned.

"Fine. We'll call it that," Minerva conceded. "So hypothetically, if there was going to be an attack this year, what would it look like and how might someone go about stopping it before someone got hurt?"

"Hypothetically?" she asked.

The Scottish witch nodded.

Hermione looked around, to make certain no one else was watching them. She could feel the magic of the Unbreakable Vow tingling in reminder of how close to the razor's edge she was treading with this conversation. Good sense dictated that she just walk away and leave Minerva with her questions, hypothetical or not, but even if their romance was impossible to consider, one day she would be free to be honest about where her loyalties lay, and perhaps a friendship could be formed with the woman she loved. As such, she didn't want to fight with the woman. She wanted to make her understand.

"The Dark Lord, I suspect, is just about out of tricks," she said slowly. "I don't believe Potter, no matter how thick he is, is going to be tricked into another trap like our fifth year. He failed to gain entry to Hogwarts through stealth last year, so if he attacks Hogwarts again, it'll be hard to miss, and it will be a battle."

"I don't like the sound of that…" Minerva winced. "How would you prevent that from happening? Hypothetically?"

"Leverage," Hermione replied succinctly.

"That would require having leverage to use," the Deputy Head argued.

"Minerva," Hermione said quietly. "Surely you know that my father is not the only Death Eater to sire a child."

The older witch's eyes widened, understanding at once what Hermione was suggesting. "That's… barbaric. You can't expect the Order to hold _children_ hostage to potentially sway You-Know-Who's followers."

Hermione shrugged. "You asked what _I _would do."

"And you are a Death Eater," Minerva concluded miserably.

"Which is exactly why we shouldn't be having this conversation," Hermione said, touching the older woman's cheek. "Because attraction aside, and feelings aside, we have nothing in common."

It was a lie, and it was bitter coming off her tongue. They had much in common, but Minerva didn't know that, and couldn't know that. Despite the sharp rebuttal, the older woman leaned into the touch and moved closer to the young witch, like she hadn't even heard what she said.

"I try to remember feeling such disdain toward you," Minerva whispered, breathless. "I try not to love what I should hate, but it doesn't seem to make a difference. It's too tempting. Too easy."

"It doesn't change anything," Hermione whimpered as their foreheads rested together.

Faces began to tilt toward stealing another kiss, but a bell on the door of the bookshop rang cheerfully, and they quickly pulled apart. Hermione just stared at Minerva for a moment as they both panted in the wake of adrenaline, before the older woman finally let out a ragged sigh and began moving away from the corner they'd been hiding in.

"Happy Valentines, Hermione," Minerva said softly, not turning back to look. She didn't wait for a reply before leaving the store in haste, though it did come some minutes later.

After Minerva's departure, Hermione sank to the floor as silent tears fell. "Happy Valentines, my love," she whispered.

* * *

Minerva winced as she was struck with a flash of blinding pain and the image of her dream Hermione smiling fondly while seated on a stool in the kitchens. This had been happening a lot of late; she'd see the real Hermione and be struck with an image of the dream version, which would then leave her with a throbbing headache for the next hour or so.

A quick mental check of her schedule for the day, and Minerva realized that after lunch, she had some free time. She had been planning to get some marking done, but that could wait. This had been going on for a month now, and at this point she was getting concerned about her mental health. Hermione Snape was literally driving her insane. Hopefully, Poppy would have some sort of treatment.

As she exited the Great Hall half an hour later, she spotted Hermione at the Slytherin table and flinched - _A young Gryffindor version of Hermione standing in her office, being handed a timeturner. She hugged Minerva tightly, and Minerva offered a wry grin at the enthusiasm. Fondness coursed through her. _A timeturner would be nice right about now, Minerva thought ruefully as the wave of dizziness ebbed away enough for her to continue walking. She'd give just about anything to turn back time to before she'd impulsively kissed the woman trying to kill her, a few months ago. Everything had gone to hell since then.

"Poppy?" she called, upon entering the Hospital Wing.

"Sit," the matron ordered after taking only a brief look at her colleague. "You're pale as a ghost and sweating. What's wrong?"

"I think I'm going mad," Minerva whispered. "I keep having these dreams about Miss Snape…"

Poppy raised her eyebrow at that statement.

"Not that sort of dream, Poppy!" the other witch snapped. "Get your mind out of the gutter! It's like an alternate reality version of her. She's a Gryffindor instead of a Slytherin, and she always shows up younger than she really is. No older than a third or fourth year student. The exchanges show a certain fondness, but nothing inappropriate. In any case, my dream life seems to be spilling into reality, because lately anytime I see Miss Snape about the castle I get hit with these flashes - fragments of dreams - followed by a headache."

"Well that's not good," the Mediwitch replied. "That's not good in the least."

"Am I going mad?" Minerva asked timidly. "Perhaps… do I need to talk to Albus about taking a leave of absence?"

"Mad?" Poppy asked sharpy. "I rather doubt it. If James Potter and his friends didn't drive the lot of us outright batty, then I doubt you or any of the rest of us could be bothered enough as all that. What you describe sounds like a decaying memory charm."

"I would remark that I have no memory of a memory charm being cast on my person," Minerva said seriously, "but I would be the last person in a position to remember such a thing."

"Quite," the other woman agreed, digging in a cabinet and pulling out a potion. "Here, drink this."

Minerva downed the offered liquid without question, and immediately her headache began to wane. "Migraine relief?"

Poppy nodded. "It'll help control the symptoms for now, but if it is a decaying memory charm then you need to find out who cast it. Either they will need to recast it, or remove it, because if it continues to decay like this it will leave you with long term neurological damage."

"I don't like the sounds of that."

"Nor do I."

"I wouldn't know where to begin," Minerva bemoaned. "Poppy, I'm fifty-four years old. If it is a memory charm decaying, it's likely an old one, and there's a good chance whoever cast it is dead."

"It could be old, or considering that the memories attempting to surface relate to Miss Snape, it could be fairly recent," the mediwitch considered. "Or, given that it seems like Miss Snape but the details are off, it may be a student from years ago who Miss Snape reminds you of, causing the trigger."

"That didn't help."

Poppy huffed. "I helped by pointing out something that should have been obvious. Pay attention to your dreams, Minerva. There may be clues in there to help narrow down a period of time, if not a person. And you better pray that whoever cast this isn't dead, because left untreated, you will go mad."

* * *

Hermione made her way to the Hospital Wing, upon being summoned there by the Headmaster. She knew her father was in class, so she didn't think he was injured, but worry gripped her anyway. A potions accident could take him away from her just as easily as the Dark Lord might, and she didn't think she could do this alone. For as well situated as she was in Voldemort's ranks, being a lone spy would be a nightmare. She had no idea how Severus had done it during the last war.

"Headmaster?" she called, stepping into the wing. Then, she spotted the Hogwarts Mediwitch. "Madam Pomfrey", she greeted with a cold politeness. While she'd liked Pomfrey well enough her first four years of school, the amount of harm done to other students which Pomfrey attributed some fault toward her person had left their relationship more than a little strained. Also, according to Minerva, Pomfrey had patched her up after their rather violent duel a few months prior.

"Just what does Miss Snape have to do with Minerva's condition?" Pomfrey asked sharply of Dumbledore.

"Quite a lot," he said thoughtfully. "As you will shortly be made to understand. However, I will require your oath to keep the following discussion to yourself, Poppy. Lives depend on it."

"I swear on my magic and on my station as a Mediwitch that what you tell me shall remain between the three of us," the older witch swore, waving her wand in a sharp arc to seal the magical oath. "Though do note that I do so because I trust you, Albus. I do not believe there is anything you could say to make me trust… _her_."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with Minerva?"

"It seems the memory charm is decaying," Albus announced. "As risky as it is, I'm afraid telling her the truth is the only option before us."

"We can't just recast the charm?" Hermione inquired.

"The charm was designed to be used on a mass scale. If we cast it to correct the breakdown in Minerva, it would impact everyone else, causing brain damage. That would be… unfortunate."

"Bloody hell," Hermione let out with a sigh.

"By extension, I think it's best we explain things to Poppy, so she can provide the proper treatment for Minerva's condition. Just telling her the truth isn't going to be enough."

Poppy tapped her foot. "I'm waiting."

Hermione looked at Albus for the go-ahead, and then turned to address the Mediwitch. "Three years ago I presented the Headmaster with a plan to plant a spy within the Dark Lord's ranks who was young enough to still be attending Hogwarts, as to be able to reach other students on the fence of allegiance and sway them toward the Order. Further, the placement of this spy would be able to help protect the adult spy already in place. He agreed, as did the other spy. An agreement was made to perform a mass Obliviation on the entire magical population so that they would be made to believe that a young witch who had previously been known as the best friend of Harry Potter, and the pride of Gryffindor house, would be henceforth known as a Slytherin of dark leanings, and the daughter of her Head of House."

Silence ensued for a moment, while Poppy took in the information. "You're saying that you were originally a Gryffindor, and a friend of Potter's, and we only _think_ you're Severus' daughter?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I was born Hermione _Granger_, the daughter of two muggle dentists, and sorted to Gryffindor when I arrived at Hogwarts. I spent four years being Minerva's favorite student, not that she'd admit it even if she remembered, before my true identity was buried, and I took my place in Voldemort's ranks."

"It's hard to believe," Poppy said skeptically. "But presuming you're telling the truth, why Minerva? Why is the memory charm breaking down in her, but not in anyone else?"

"I was wondering that myself," Albus said with a twinkle in his eye. He'd already guessed. Hermione was almost sure of that.

Hermione looked at the floor. "We fell in love," she admitted softly. "Despite having every reason to hate me, and every excuse to distrust me, she _loves_ me. And I love her."

Poppy looked flabbergasted, though Albus just smiled. "As I've said, love is the most powerful magic there is. Only a deep love could have broken through such memory charms. I'd be willing to bet that the two of you have been dancing around the issue for some time now, and agreed not to pursue what's obviously between you."

"Headmaster, even setting aside the issue of my role in the war versus hers, and the fact that until this conversation I was under the impression I'd never be allowed to tell her the truth because of the Unbreakable Vow that _you_ made me swear," Hermione seethed, "she is my Professor and I would not ask her to compromise her career just to be with me."

"You graduate in a few short months, my dear," Albus said, "and Minerva will need time to process after she's been told the truth. Would you prefer to do so, or shall I?"

Hermione huffed. "I'll tell her. She deserves to hear it from me."

The Headmaster turned back to Poppy. "Not that you leave often, but until the war is over both yourself and Minerva will need to remain confined to the castle. I cannot risk either of you being captured and revealing Hermione and Severus' roles under duress of torture."

"Very well, Albus," Poppy agreed easily enough. "Though Minerva won't be happy about that."

Hermione cringed. "No she won't. But it's the price of her sanity, so she's going to have to just deal with it."

* * *

Minerva was sitting at the desk in her personal quarters, trying to make sense of a pile of essays from the third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Gryffindors tended to just do the assignment to the letter, and Slytherins attempted to make a counterpoint to the point of the lesson. Both of those approaches made sense to her. Hufflepuffs, however, had an odd habit of trying to find the moral in the lesson, which often completely disregarded the lesson itself, and the Ravenclaws tried to speculate how the lesson would impact their lessons two years down the road. Both of those approaches often left her having to pick apart an essay just to figure out what part of it was actually relevant to the homework assignment. Never mind the actual grading of the gradable content.

She jumped slightly at an unexpected knock at her door. "Come in," she called, thinking it was likely to be Albus. Poppy had said she'd be speaking to him today about her concerns over her mental health, so likely he'd come to speak with her on the subject.

It was not Albus.

"Hermione?" she questioned. "What are you doing here?"

The young Slytherin let out a ragged breath. "We need to talk."

"I thought we already had," Minerva replied, setting aside the essays. "Last time we spoke you were fairly clear in your opinion that we shouldn't speak at all."

"That was before I found out the memory charms were breaking down," Hermione replied. "Gods, Minerva, why didn't you tell me about the dreams?"

Minerva was instantly on guard. "How do you know about that? And what do you mean, _memory charms_?"

"Poppy thought I should be aware of just how badly you've been doing before I came to speak with you," she replied. "And I'm talking about the memory charms placed on the whole of the wizarding world by the Headmaster, myself, and Severus. The charms that seem to be breaking down in your mind, because you had to do the stupidest thing in the world and fall in love with me. You weren't supposed to do that."

"Hermione, please start from the beginning," she requested. She had a hunch that her world was about to be turned upside down. Mass Obliviation was, as far she had heard, exclusively used on muggle populations to maintain the Statute of Secrecy. If Hermione was honestly implying that it had been done on the wizarding population, the ramifications were far reaching, and not just to her. "When was the charm cast, and why?"

"Three years ago, and for the purpose of putting a young spy within the Death Eater ranks."

"You?" Minerva whispered. "I knew it! I knew you weren't loyal to that snake faced bastard! But why you?"

Her sense of foreboding was, for a moment at least, overshadowed by a feeling of vindication.

"It was my idea," Hermione replied. "In one fell stroke, one charm, the wizarding world forgot about the muggleborn Gryffindor who was Harry Potter's best friend, which removed a possible route to attack him, and manifested a spy that no one would question - the daughter of the only Death Eater who could be trusted to protect her identity."

"So Severus is a spy as well?" Minerva asked. "And… Hermione, is your surname really _Granger_?"

The younger woman smiled softly. "Yes, and yes," she admitted. "We were close, you and I, then. It's been hell, Minerva, these last few years having you _hate_ me, when I knew that…"

"In another life, I could have loved you?" the Transfiguration Professor finished, remembering the night that had begun this spiral into madness.

"I hadn't realized how deeply I'd come to care for you until after the charm was cast," Hermione admitted. "And Gryffindor or Slytherin, I never imagined you'd come to care for me in return. What I said that night, I had meant in a platonic manner. I missed you."

"You'd not have needed to miss me at all if you hadn't done this in the first place," Minerva said quietly. "Everything inside of me is telling me that you're speaking the truth, but honestly, I've never felt more violated in my life. Or betrayed. You tell me that Albus was on board with this, and helped, and I've spent a lifetime trusting him. You tell me that you and I were close, before all of this, and that you valued our friendship, and yet you went and altered my memories anyway. Who the _hell_ do you think you are, to take my memory?"

"I made the choice I did for the greater good, Minerva," Hermione said calmly. "The only people exempt from the charm were myself, Albus, and Severus, because all three of us are Master Occlumens and can protect our minds. Now that you know the truth, you're going to have to remain in the castle for the duration of the war."

"That reason can justify all manner of atrocities."

"I know."

"And my forthcoming imprisonment is your responsibility." Shock was wearing off now, and anger was taking hold. "Damn you," she spat.

"It's not my fault that you kept digging for excuses to justify your attraction to me!" Hermione snapped. "And it's not my fault that the more you dug, the more you felt, and the more the memory charm broke down. Further, if you recall, I didn't kiss you first. I did _everything_ I could to drive you away."

"And now you've finally succeeded," Minerva replied bitterly. "Get out. Just… get out, Hermione."

The younger woman sighed. "Albus has ordered me to be your handler - to keep an eye on you. I'll leave now, but I will be back tomorrow to check on you."

"I'd rather you didn't," she said sharply, wishing that there was more venom in her voice than there actually was. She didn't know what was worse - falling in love with a Death Eater or falling in love with someone who had betrayed her in epic proportions. Still, in whichever condition, nothing had changed. She still loved this woman, and still hated herself for it.

"When the war is over, I'll leave you in peace if that's what you want," Hermione said after a pause. "For now, we are both obligated to adhere to the Headmaster's orders."

"Fine," Minerva replied, and at that Hermione let herself out.

That said, she was anything at all but _fine_. In all her life, she'd never been so conflicted. One side of her was kicking and screaming in protest, feeling betrayed and taken advantage of. The other side of her realized that the only thing standing between her and Hermione now was her own ability to forgive. The question wasn't even one of whether or not she could forgive, but rather, if she _should_. How could she proceed with a relationship that had begun in a sea of lies and betrayal?

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

**Alright you lot. Here's the conclusion. Can't wait to here what you all think! **

* * *

Guilt coiled in Hermione's gut as she walked to Minerva's quarters. It had been ten days since she'd told the other woman the truth, and she didn't seem to be getting any closer to letting go of her anger. This morning, the Headmaster had confided that Minerva had finally come to see _him_, the evening before, during which time he'd gotten a fair amount of practice casting shield charms as his Transfiguration Professor let her anger out on him. So far, Minerva had just remained very cold toward her, though she was a bit worried that this evening she'd end up getting the business end of Minerva's wand like Albus had last night.

She let herself in with the password, not bothering to knock. Minerva looked up at her as she entered, and let out a sigh. "By the way your hand is twitching toward your wand holster, I suppose Albus has already told you I gave him a piece of my mind last night."

"He mentioned it," Hermione admitted.

"I have no intention of dueling you," the other woman said. "I know Albus would never hex me back. I have scars to prove you'd not likely be that generous."

"That's good to know," she replied, relaxing a bit. "Any chance last night got the anger out of your system? Are you in a better place to be reasonable?"

"What in Merlin's name is reasonable about being in love?" Minerva wanted to know.

"Nothing," Hermione replied. "As you and I are both acutely aware."

Minerva was quiet for a moment, and Hermione took a seat on the sofa by the fireplace. She'd been spending about an hour in the Scottish witch's quarters each evening since the confession, determined to give Minerva every opportunity to talk, but without being pushy.

They sat in silence for the better part of the next forty-five minutes, and Hermione was nearly ready to give up for the night, when Minerva spoke again. "Is it supposed to be?"

"Is what supposed to be what?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Is love supposed to be reasonable?" she asked. "I have every reason to want to beat you senseless, but that's not the urge I'm resisting every damn night when you show up here. We're alone in my quarters, and afforded privacy we've never had before, and while I want to be right pissed at you for all of this, I can't seem to focus on that. All I can focus on is the question of whether or not me knowing the truth changes things for us. You told me, that day in the Library, that we could not get involved because of the secrets you were bound to keep."

Minerva stood from her desk and walked over to sit next to Hermione on the sofa before she continued to speak. "So what I want to know, Hermione, is if there are still secrets between us, and if you want me as badly as I want you?"

"You know everything, Minerva," Hermione said earnestly. "And I'll gladly answer any questions you still have, now or later. However, I still have a role to play till this damned war is over and we can't risk…"

Minerva's lips were on her before she could finish the sentence, and Hermione responded despite her reservations. "It's not a secret between us if it's a secret we share," the older woman muttered into her hair as she nibbled at Hermione's neck. "Make love to me, darling…"

Good sense told Hermione that they could wait until the end of the war to do this, but her fears wondered if they'd both live out the final battle, which Albus said he was fairly certain would happen here at Hogwarts. They'd both be in the thick of it, and she decided - just as Minerva started unbuttoning her shirt - that the sense of coming home that she felt when this woman touched her was worth the risk of exposure.

"Like there's no tomorrow," she agreed, sliding her hand up the other woman's skirt. "And like we have forever."

* * *

As Minerva had anticipated, You-Know-Who attacked in the spring. It was May the second, and just minutes before Harry Potter had destroyed Voldemort. It was over. On the other hand, the end of the war meant the beginning of Hermione Snape's trials. Much like her father had at the end of the last war, she'd have to stand trial and prove that the Dark Mark on her arm had been taken in service to the Order. Knowing Hermione, she already had a solid case in her favor. She'd have learned from Severus' experience, and done what she needed to do to protect the both of them when she'd decided to do what she did.

She still couldn't quite wrap her mind around all of it. Minerva knew, logically, what Hermione had told her was the truth - that she'd been born _Granger_, a muggleborn, and sorted initially to Gryffindor, but she also _knew_ that she was Severus' daughter, and had been sorted to Slytherin upon her arrival at Hogwarts. The two facts in her mind conflicted, but with Poppy's help, she was no longer being plagued with headaches or flashes of memory that had been intentionally buried.

Voldemort had gone to his death never knowing that Severus and Hermione were loyal to the Order, despite that they'd successfully used the Imperius Curse on him to separate him from his pet snake, and the Order itself had been collectively shocked to see the father and daughter being pulled into a tight embrace by the Headmaster at the conclusion of the battle.

"What's this, Albus?" Arthur Weasley asked warily. "I was under the impression that the Snapes were working for You-Know-Who."

"He's dead," Minerva remarked. "Arthur, just call him by his name - Voldemort. And Severus and Hermione are loyal to the Order. They were both spies, and responsible for many of the intelligence reports we received."

"Is that true, Headmaster?" Harry asked. "The Snapes were spies?"

"It is," Albus confirmed, and all at once the Snapes were being surrounded by other members of the Order shaking hands and offering hugs, and issuing pleas to join the celebration. Severus looked beyond uncomfortable, but Hermione wore a bright smile that only she, Poppy, Albus, and her father could understand.

She wondered if the truth of Hermione's birth would come out, now that there wasn't a risk of blowing Hermione's cover, though she doubted it given that firstly, it would most certainly begin a legal battle on the morality of altering the minds of the whole of the Wizarding population, and secondly, what little grace was given by the Order for the deception would be undone in the wake of feeling betrayed. This, Minerva understood.

That night, Minerva was unsurprised when Hermione showed up at her quarters. "Hello," the young woman greeted with a soft smile.

"Come in," the older witch offered, stepping aside. "I trust the debriefing went fairly well?"

Hermione nodded. "Albus vouched for us, and so far as the Order is concerned he can do no wrong, so they seem to be, generally speaking, going for it. Of course, there will still be a trial, but none of us are worried. Molly is insistent that my father and I both receive the _Order of Merlin_ award, though gods know I wish she wouldn't. As free as I feel right now, being able to take off the spy mantle, I almost feel as if I'm trading one cage for another; subterfuge for fame."

"Can I help you take your mind off things?" Minerva asked, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Hermione's forehead.

"I was hoping you would," Hermione replied with a grin. "Gods, how I've missed you…"

* * *

"Hey, Snape!"

Hermione turned, tense, at the sound of Harry Potter's voice. "Potter," she greeted. "What do you want?"

"I've been thinking," he said, hands in his pockets, "about how you always seemed to show up when me and Ron were in trouble with the other Slytherins. I was trying to figure out how you could be so cruel to me, if we were on the same side, and then I realized that every single time you showed up, you ended up talking down other people and we never got hurt. You were protecting us, weren't you?"

Hermione nodded. "I was. It was my primary objective to work on swaying the sons and daughters of Death Eaters away from following their parents' footsteps, but my secondary objective was to keep an eye on you."

"Then I owe you an apology," he concluded. "And I'd like to start with offering a hand of friendship."

Hermione stared at his outstretched hand, as he waited for her to take it and shake his hand, and was overwhelmed. While Merlin knew it had been hell to have Minerva dislike her, she'd missed her friendship with Harry nearly as much. "Oh, Harry!" she said, launching into his arms and pulling him into a hug. "You'll never know how much this means to me. I hated it, you know, not being able to be your friend openly all this time."

He patted her on the back, humoring her sudden demonstrativeness. "Er, Snape, you've not secretly been in love with me or anything, have you? Because I'm with Ginny Weasley…"

Hermione let him go in great haste. "No…" she swore with a chuckle. "I just believed we could be good friends. I have a Gryffindor myself, thanks."

"Who?"

"It's still very new. I'd rather not jinx it by saying," she blushed, thinking she wasn't sure if Minerva could handle her Golden Boy knowing his Head of House was shagging one of his classmates.

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Sorry if this is a bit forward, because we've been friends officially for all of five minutes, but is it McGonagall?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "How… how could you possibly know that?"

He blushed furiously. "I have an Invisibility Cloak and saw you guys dueling a while back, after which there was some snogging. It took me awhile to get past _ewww_, but I can see how you two might be suited, even if you are a Slytherin. She'd need someone who could challenge her, and you'd need someone who wouldn't look at you like a child. You, like me, have seen too much war to really feel like a normal kid."

"Well, I trust you've learned the hazards of snooping," she teased, smiling. "But yes, I'm with Minerva. It took us a long time to get here, but I hope we have a shot at lasting, now that she can stop feeling guilty about falling for a Death Eater. Gods, she hated herself for it so much."

"I wonder if that's how my mum felt," Harry mused. "About your dad. Everything I know about them suggests that she liked him a lot, but couldn't agree with his choice to follow Voldemort, and then ended up with my dad in the end, and your dad ended up with your mum. Funny… we might have been brother and sister."

Even if it was all a fiction that most would believe for the rest of her life, she really liked the idea. If her life had been something other than this elaborate fabrication, and if her father had gotten Lily, then yes, the two of them might have been brother and sister, and the feelings she had for Harry matched the supposition. "That's more like what I feel for you. I see you like a little brother. I've always felt this need to protect you."

Harry looked pleased at her agreement, and offered a wry grin. "Well, if we're gunna play at being brother and sister, do I get to give McGonagall the '_you hurt her I kill you'_ speech?"

Hermione hadn't laughed so hard in years.

* * *

Minerva was surprised when Severus approached where she and Hermione were sitting by the Black Lake. "Potter's looking for you," he said to his daughter. "He referred to you as _our girl_. The very thought that Potter and I could share anything baffles and upsets me deeply, but I said I'd pass on the message."

Hermione chuckled. "He's decided we're unofficially siblings, and I may or may not have suggested he begin to think of you as a surrogate father, since he hasn't had a parent in his life since Black died."

"How could you do that to me?" Severus asked, looking horrified.

"It'll be good for you," Hermione said, standing up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You've done a good job with me, Father. And he's Lily's son. Think of her, and what she'd have wanted, will you? Minerva, I'll see you later."

With that, Hermione was off leaving the two Professors alone. Minerva expected Severus to leave as well, but rather he sat down where Hermione had been moments before. "You two are together now, I gather," he said.

"Do you disapprove?" Minerva asked. "I know that in reality, you're not her father so it's not your place to say who she can and cannot be involved with, but she does see you that way, and I'd be willing to bet your approval would mean a lot to her."

"I disapprove of her getting hurt," Severus replied. "If you plan on hurting her, then I'd have to object, at wand point, but I don't think that's your plan."

"I believe we've hurt each other enough at this point," she remarked, thinking of the scar across her thigh that was a daily reminder of how everything had begun with the young woman who had her heart. "We haven't talked about long term plans as of yet, however, because she wants to wait until the trial is over. She worries they'll make her serve time in Azkaban for the killing. In the service of the Order or not, she's taken lives."

"As have I, and many other members of the Order," he said. "If they send her, they'd have to send me, and Molly Weasley, and Harry Potter, and a number of other prominent members of our society. Even the Wizengamot isn't that daft. Stop worrying."

"I can't help it," Minerva moaned. "I can't help myself where she's concerned in any situation."

He raised an eyebrow. "I noticed. Minerva, a bit of advice regarding my daughter, if you'd care to hear it - "

"Of course," she agreed.

"Hermione has given up literally everything for the cause, and she did it for love. She'd do anything you asked of her, because she loves you, even if it makes her miserable," he shared. "So try to remember that as you two decide how to move forward with your relationship, because she's given up enough. She has sacrificed enough, and it's only fair that now someone be willing to make sacrifices themselves so that she can be happy. The wizarding world will fawn over the Girl-Who-Spied, and she can't take that pressure. I expect she'll want to live somewhere secluded, and if you're to be her paramour, you need to decide what you're willing to give up to be with her."

The offering of the Hogwarts' Headship blazed across her mind in light of Albus' decision to retire, and all at once Minerva knew exactly what Severus was getting at. She'd worked her whole life to get to this place - to have that title - but if she took the post, Hermione would absolutely remain at Hogwarts with her, even if it made her miserable to remain in the public eye.

* * *

"And to Miss Hermione Snape," Dumbledore spoke to the crowd gathered for the Graduation Ceremony, "I am pleased to award a trophy for special services to the school. Of course, that's nothing compared to the Order of Merlin she was given just last week for her role as a spy within Voldemort's ranks alongside her father. It takes a special kind of person to understand the sacrifices needed for the greater good, and as we stand here with the war finally over, it's people like Miss Snape we must thank."

Hermione did her best to look pleased, but in truth she was feeling horribly awkward. She'd spent most of her early childhood being the unnoticed little bookworm, her first few years at Hogwarts as something quite similar, and just about the time she'd gotten to the point of not feeling socially inept, she'd taken on the role of a spy and once again been remanded to the background. She'd been social in the last few years, certainly, but no one save her father really knew her, and his social skills weren't much to go on. No, scratch that; they were nothing to go on. Merlin knew she loved Severus Snape, but he was an absolute social novice. It had been the one part of his personality that the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore would have agreed to be completely truthful and been right.

The ceremony played out as rehearsed, and when it was over Hermione made her way to the oak tree by the lake and sat down to wait for Minerva to arrive once she was also free. Unlike Hermione, Minerva's role as a Professor of Hogwarts required her to mingle with the graduates' parents for a time to answer any final questions. When Minerva did arrive, nearly an hour later, she wore a grumpy expression. "What's up?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Brown's father made a series of rather blatant advances on my person whilst discussing his daughter's future," Minerva scowled. "Of all the nerve…"

The younger witch laughed. "Did you tell him that you're taken?"

"Given that, while yes we've been engaging in an intimate relationship the last few months, we've not actually discussed exclusivity. I didn't want to presume and say as much," Minerva replied. "That said, Hermione, I'm a bit too old to want a fling. I don't believe that's what you're looking for either, but we still need to talk about it."

"Then let's talk," Hermione agreed. "I want to be a part of your life, and I want you to be a part of mine. Beyond that, I'm pretty flexible. Father helped me get three Mastery Certificates in the last couple of years, so I can pursue a number of careers at a number of locations. I could stay here with you, if you wanted, or we could go elsewhere if you're wanting to retire or something…"

Minerva reached out and took her lover's hand. "Hermione, what do _you_ want?"

Hermione sighed. She was absolutely willing to do whatever it took to have Minerva, but if she was honest… "I want to buy a cottage in the Highlands," she whispered. "I want to write books and research, and not be obligated to be social. I just want to exist in a world where no one matters but you and me, and whether or when we actually see other life forms is up to us, one day at a time."

"And you want me to be with you."

"That's a given, Minerva," she said. "But I'm not the only one with desires. I could write books and research from Hogwarts just as easily. I know you've been offered the Headship."

"I'm still considering," the older woman confessed. "I've spent my entire adult life working to get to this very place, but if I'm honest with myself, now that it's in front of me I'm not sure it's what I still want."

"What's changed?" Hermione inquired.

Minerva leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her lover's lips. "I met you, darling."

* * *

"You've made your decision?" Albus asked, looking up from his desk when she walked into the Head's office.

Minerva sighed. She hated the fact that she knew he'd be disappointed. He'd been grooming her to take his place for years. "I have."

"I see," he replied. "While I am admittedly sorry to hear you've chosen to turn down what you've worked so long and hard to achieve, I do understand, my dear. Love is a powerful draw, when you're lucky enough to find it. While I can't bring myself to regret my own decision to choose Hogwarts, just because it was the right thing for me doesn't mean it is the right thing for you."

"I think that the Transfiguration textbooks are long overdue a revamp," she offered. "I think I'll spend my time doing that. While Hermione holds three masteries herself and also plans to write books, Transfiguration was not one of her specialties, despite being gifted in the subject."

"That is certainly a worthy goal," he allowed. "I'm sure that Severus will welcome both of your contributions, presuming that he doesn't also turn down promotion. Will you at least remain on as a Professor?"

Minerva hadn't known that Severus was second choice - she'd assumed Filius, who had the greater tenure - but she supported the idea. He'd make a good Headmaster. "No. I will begin interviewing candidates immediately to fill my post in September. Obviously the final decision will be yours, or Severus' I suppose, but I thought I could at least help the process along."

"I'm sure Severus will appreciate it," Albus said. "While a great Potions Master, he never was much good with Transfiguration and wouldn't likely know an able, prospective Professor if it hit him on the nose."

"That's likely true," she chuckled.

"If not Hogwarts, where will Hermione and yourself be residing?" he inquired. "If it's permissible, I'd like to visit now and then. I believe I shall miss you both."

"We plan to buy a cottage in the Highlands. I have the Manor there, of course, but that seems a bit large for just the two of us," she answered. "And of course you'd be welcome to visit now and then, though Owl ahead; much of my choice is because Hermione desires solitude and privacy. Someone wise pointed out that Hermione had sacrificed everything for this war, and that it was only fitting that sacrifices be made for her now."

"I couldn't agree more, although that's very sentimental for Severus," the Headmaster replied, eyes twinkling. "It's funny though. Gellert and I once talked of doing the same - finding a place away from the world where we could be together without care of outside opinion."

"But you chose Hogwarts instead."

"I chose the future, believing that hiding away our love was too much like agreeing with the ideas of the time, that two men loving one another was something to be ashamed of," Albus confessed. "I sought a productive way to pave a path toward acceptance for future generations, while after my rejection, he chose to forcibly attempt to change things. Instant gratification might be a sweet thing indeed, but the things truly worth fighting for take time."

"Do you think that's what we're doing? Hiding away?" Minerva asked timidly.

"You are hiding away," he replied. "But it is not for the sake of shame, so it's not wrong. She hides because she needs time to heal from everything she's been through, and because the world needs time to heal from the war before seeing the Dark Mark on her arm without issuing judgment. You go with her because you love her and want to help her, and because you accept her regardless of the mark she took. That makes you enlightened, not a coward, so you have nothing to be sorry for."

"Thank you for understanding," Minerva said softly. "Truly Albus, I feel like I've let you down horribly."

"Before you were my preferred heir, you were the little girl I loved as a daughter, my dear," he replied with a smile. "You are following your heart, and I could never be disappointed in you for doing such a wondrous thing."

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes as dawn crept in her and Minerva's bedroom window on the morning of the two year anniversary of Voldemort's defeat. The mark on her arm was still there, faded but still a visible reminder of everything she'd been though. With a sigh, she rolled over and wrapped herself around her lover's lithe form, kissing the back of her neck.

Minerva moaned. "Morning."

"Good morning, love," Hermione replied softly, thrusting her hips slightly into her partner's naked backside.

"How can you possibly be randy at the crack of dawn?" the older woman muttered. "It's unholy."

Despite her verbal protests, Minerva's hand reached Hermione's and pulled it around to cup a breast, and her own body began to shift to accommodate a closer spooning.

"I was just remembering," Hermione replied, beginning to kiss her way down Minerva's neck and onto her shoulder. "I was remembering how it all began for us, and how much I love you."

Minerva rolled over and lips collided as an end to conversation, for now. Even more than two years later, passion was never absent when they made love. In fact, despite their relative seclusion, neither of them had any lack of zest for life in general. Hermione had already published two books, and Minerva was nearly finished with her first. Their cottage was host to one of the better private libraries in the United Kingdom and with endless mental stimulation and a decided lack of general stress, the two were quite happy.

"Want you," Hermione murmured as Minerva's lips suckled on the inside of her hip bone; so close to her center but still so far away. "Please…"

The older woman smiled coyly, and then lowered herself between her lover's legs, causing Hermione's eyes to roll into the back of her head as pleasure began intensely coursing through her body.

An hour later, they both lay sated in twisted sheets, too warm for the comforter that had been kicked to the floor some time earlier. "Harry's expected for breakfast," Minerva said with a sigh. "We'd best get up and shower."

"Can't we just throw on robes and scar him for life?" Hermione whined.

Internally, the notion of Harry Potter coming for a visit pleased her deeply. Despite the enmity between them for the latter part of her education after the Obliviation, in the last two years they'd become good friends. Hermione sometimes wondered if, having come together as adults, they had perhaps become closer friends now than they would have if they'd been friends all through their Hogwarts years. He was the brother she'd never had, and Harry, alongside Severus, were the only family she had anymore.

While her relationship with both Harry and Minerva had blossomed regardless of them having no memory of the little muggleborn she'd been born as, her mum and dad would never remember her, although once she'd discovered they'd set up a new dental practice after moving to Australia not long after the Obliviation, she'd made a point to use them for her personal dental care. They might not know her, but seeing them every six months was a balm to her soul, and something she looked forward to.

Minerva smacked her arse. "Up, woman! I'll not be blamed for your brother getting an eyeful, and worse, reporting it to your father."

"Alright, alright," Hermione gave in.

The two showered together, and then set about preparing breakfast. Right on time, at eight o'clock local time, the Floo roared to life and Harry stepped through. "Good morning, ladies!" he greeted warmly.

Hermione gave him a tight hug, and then allowed Minerva to do the same. "Good to see you, Harry," the older woman said. "You look well."

"I am well," he said cheekily, pulling an envelope out of his pocket and handing it to his adoptive sister. "Now I know that you two don't get out much, but this is an invitation and you'd better damn well come."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and opened the offered letter, offering a squeal of delight a moment later and nearly knocking Harry off his feet as she tackled him with another hug. "Of course we'll come!"

"What are we coming to?" Minerva wanted to know.

"I proposed to Ginny," Harry explained, smiling brightly. "She said yes, which is brilliant, and we've decided to get married on September the first. It's the anniversary of the day we met, and we agreed that we didn't want a very long engagement."

"It also limits how much time Molly has to turn the wedding into the social affair of the year," their former Professor added with a small smile. "Congratulations, Mister Potter."

After breakfast and a nice long visit, Harry headed off, still needing to hand deliver two other invitations - one to Albus and one to Draco Malfoy - before heading back to the recently rebuilt Potter Manor. In the last couple of years, much as Harry and Hermione had grown quite close, Draco and Ginny had formed a strong friendship. As such, the newly engaged couple had agreed that Hermione would be Maid of Honor, and Draco would be Best Man, so that both of them would have their best friends in the head of the wedding party without compromising the gender norms. Hermione, of course, had readily agreed. She had no problem being paired with Draco for the event, as the two of them were also friends. He was actually one of the few who regularly saw Hermione, alongside Albus, Severus, and Harry and Ginny.

Hermione set to cleaning up the mess that breakfast had left after her friend departed, and Minerva stepped in to help. "You know, Harry was less than subtle in his hints that I ought to make an honest woman out of you," the older woman commented after a few minutes of silence.

"Typical Gryffindor," Hermione laughed. "I do hope you didn't feel unduly pressured. I don't need a ring to know you love me."

"Perhaps not, but it made me think that we rarely talk about our future," Minerva replied seriously. "We take our life one day at a time, and Merlin knows I'm beyond happy the way things are, but I suppose I was wondering if there were conversations we ought to have before it's too late to have them."

"Such as?" Hermione asked, motioning for Minerva to sit at the now clean table.

"Such as whether or not you might want children."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Do _you_?"

"I hadn't honestly given it much thought," Minerva admitted. "I'm sixty-four years old, and until two years ago and change, I wasn't in a relationship anything resembling serious enough to consider."

"Well I can't say I've given it much thought either," Hermione admitted after a pause. "Honestly, when I decided to take the Dark Mark I assumed I would be giving up any kind of future that might include children. I'm used to the idea that, at best, I might be someone's godmother one day, like Father was to Draco."

"And that's enough for you?" Minerva asked.

"Darling, I have you, and that's more than I dreamed possible," Hermione said tenderly. "Having _you_ is more than enough for me. I know a lot of people have children so they can contribute to the next generation, but honestly, I've already done that. I've helped to secure a world in which children like Harry and Ginny may one day have are safe from tyranny. Beyond that, I have my books, which will help to educate the next generation."

"You also have your mission to play matchmaker for Mister Malfoy," Minerva teased.

Hermione looked smug. "I'll have you know that he and Padma Patil have now gone on a third date. I'll have to find someone else to play matchmaker for, I suspect."

"Give it a few years and you'll have Harry's children to set up."

Hermione laughed. "In any case, Minerva, I am _happy_ as things are. I don't need a child, I don't need a ring. I'd say yes if you asked - it's not as if I'm against the institution, but I'd not think less of you if you never did. All that I want, I already have."

"You promise to tell me if that changes?" the older woman urged.

"I'd promise you anything, love," Hermione whispered.

"And I'd give you anything," Minerva replied. "I think I knew that the first time we kissed."

"Ah, memories…" the younger witch sighed. "Those were the days."

"Yes," the elder agreed with a smile. "Memories."

* * *

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